


Like Father Like Son

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, I have no shame, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, holmescest I suppose, there will probably be sex in later chapters, this is basically just one big fantasy of mine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:50:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hamish comes to realise that the family he has right now is the only family he ever wants. It might take a bit of convincing to make John accept the idea, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay just before you read this I want you to know that this is an INCESTUOUS work of fiction. Meaning, YES Hamish and Sherlock and John are all together in this. If you don't like it, then just leave. It's pretty simple. I'm not forcing this on anyone.
> 
> And with that said, the only other thing I want to say is wow this pairing is hot. I am so glad I decided to write this and ship this shamelessly.
> 
> (I remember when I was talking to my friends and one of them was like, 'I just had an omegle RP with Sherlock and Hamish' and I was like 'hawt' and they were like 'what' and I was like 'what' and they were like 'Sherlock and Hamish were just talking' and I was like 'obviously what I thought you meant' .... but nope I wanted it and here we have the final product of that thought stewing in my brain.)
> 
> Oh I lied there is something else I quickly want to say: I did not create the character of Hamish or the character of Alex (Alex is only mentioned briefly). Hamish and Alex are just characters I roleplay as often on omegle because I've seen them on there a lot and I like them.
> 
> Ugh enough of my talking on with the fic.

Hamish rolled his eyes as he exited the school building with Lucas hot on his heels, chattering on about something he had long since blocked out. He was scanning the car park as soon as he could see it, his eyes finding John almost instantly. The man, his dad, was standing beside his car in the usual spot that he parked, his arms folded and his gaze washing over the mass of students all walking out of the doors.

Picking up his pace, Hamish bit back a smile as he headed over. He had completely forgotten about Lucas when suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, pulling him around harshly.

"Were you even listening to me just now?" Lucas asked, looking hurt. "Hamish... I just want your opinion on my science assignment. You're the smartest in the class aside from Alex."

"You don't want my opinion on your assignment, Lucas," Hamish said with a sigh. "It would be an added bonus, yes, but the main reason you want me to come over is so that you can finally work up the courage to ask me out. It's a no. Good luck with your assignment, I'm sure it's fine." Turning around again, Hamish continued towards John with a slight spring in his step.

When he reached the car, John had opened the door for him to throw his bag in.

"How was school?" John asked as he moved around to the driver's seat. Hamish climbed in the passenger side with a shrug, shutting the door and staring straight ahead. "Was that Lucas? He's a nice kid. Are you...?"

"No." Hamish folded his arms as John manoeuvred the car out of the car park and began driving home.

"You didn't even let me finish the question," John laughed. "I wanted to ask if you're working on any assignments with him. His mother's got a real brain for science."

"No, we're not," Hamish sighed, glancing sideways at John before looking away again and slouching in his seat. "He's got a crush on me."

"Really?" John said, raising his eyebrows in interest. "I don't suppose there's any chance you like him too?"

"He's an idiot," Hamish said simply.

They were silent for a while as they drove, neither one speaking up. Finally, John decided to break the silence again.

"Is there anyone that you're interested in? Life doesn't just have to be about knowledge, you know. You can have some fun as well." After speaking, John chewed his lip thoughtfully. Hamish was so much like Sherlock that sometimes it was difficult to get through to him, but since John had many years of practise dealing with Sherlock even before Hamish arrived on the scene, he knew enough to wait when he didn't receive an answer right away.

Hamish squirmed in his seat as he thought over the question, his face growing hotter as he imagined telling John the truth right now. "No. It would be a waste of my time searching for someone who can deal with me."

"Hey," John said, frowning slightly as he glanced across at Hamish. "Don't be so negative. I'm sure you'll find someone you really like one day. You just have to give it some time, alright? I didn't meet Sherlock when I was in high-school, after all. It was years later."

Falling silent again, Hamish looked out the window. Would it really be so bad telling John the truth? After all, John was different. John understood Sherlock and had shown his ability to understand Hamish as well, so maybe if Hamish did tell him everything would be fine. If anyone was to understand, after all, it would be John.

"Could you pull over somewhere before we get home?" Hamish asked suddenly, turning back to John with his mind now made up.

"Is something wrong?" John asked quickly, already beginning to search for somewhere he could easily park. "Did something happen today? Was it Alex?"

"I just need to tell you something important," Hamish said, clenching his hands into fists in his lap. He had nothing to worry about. John would understand. "It's got nothing to do with Alex."

John let out a quiet sigh of relief, finally finding somewhere he could pull over and park. He stopped the car and turned in his seat to face Hamish, taking in his nervous posture and roaming eyes. There was definitely something bothering him right now.

"What is it, Hamish? You can tell me anything." Reaching out, John put a hand on his son's shoulder for support, squeezing gently.

Looking up into John's warm, caring eyes, Hamish nodded slowly. "The thing is... you're the only one who really understands me. I'm different like Sherlock, and no one else seems to understand. But __you__ do. You know how my mind works and what things I find important."

John was nodding in response. "Of course. But like I said, Hamish, if you give it time I'm sure you'll find someone else like me who will understand you-"

"I don't __want__ anyone else," Hamish interrupted quickly, leaning across the space between their seats suddenly and angling his head to plant his lips against John's. They were barely connected for a full second before John was pushing him back in shock, eyes wide.

There really was no room for misinterpretation.

"Hamish!" John gasped out, belatedly wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "You can't just... I'm your dad!"

Hamish was staring at him, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion and fear. "I thought you'd understand," he said softly. "You always understand."

"No, Hamish, that's- you don't-" John sat back in his seat and stared straight ahead, shaking his head to try and sort out his thoughts properly. "I don't know what's brought this on, but I'm going to take you home now. Please... trust me. You will find someone of your own, but it can't be me." John started the car again, not waiting for Hamish to reply as he continued taking them closer to Baker Street.

Hamish stared at his lap, wondering how he had made a mistake. He knew it wasn't 'normal' to be attracted to a member of your family, but John was the only person Hamish had ever wanted. And Sherlock... who seemed to share a mind with him as his biological father.

Nothing else was said until they reached Baker Street. John got out first and opened the door, walking inside with only a brief glance back to make sure Hamish was following. Once they were both inside and had reached the living room, Sherlock greeted them.

"You took your time," Sherlock said first, looking up from where he was lying on the sofa. "It normally takes you precisely twenty-one minutes and fourteen seconds to pick Hamish up from school. You've been twenty-four minutes and forty-five seconds."

John swallowed nervously, glancing back at Hamish before shrugging. "It was nothing. We just had a bit of a chat on the way back is all." He began walking to the kitchen, but Sherlock leapt up from the sofa and grabbed his arm, studying his face closely before looking over to Hamish with narrowed eyes.

"Ah," he said after a moment, nodding slowly. "You kissed him."

"How the __hell__ did you-?" John exclaimed, but gave up and just shook his head. He really shouldn't be surprised by Sherlock's ability to deduce a situation so accurately anymore. "You don't have to worry, I told him off. I was going to sit him down and tell him just why it can't happen later on tonight."

"Why on earth are you planning on doing that?" Sherlock asked, looking back at John with a confused frown. "You liked it."

Spluttering, John grabbed Sherlock's arm and dragged him away from the slightly happier looking Hamish. "Sherlock!" he hissed. "You can't say things like that! And I did __not__... alright shut up, it's not like... It's wrong, Sherlock! Don't encourage him!"

"I imagine he came to you saying that you were the only one who understood him, am I right?" Sherlock asked. When John nodded slowly, he continued. "I've known for a while. He wasn't exactly subtle when he stared at you and when I realised what was happening... I watched you a bit closer as well." John opened his mouth to deny anything Sherlock would say next, but Sherlock raised his eyebrows and John instantly gave up. "I'm not opposed to it."

"Sherlock," John said slowly, taking a shaky breath in. "Whether you're opposed to it or not... it's not right. You do realise that, don't you? It's... it's incest."

"Not technically," Sherlock commented. "Not with you."

"Just because I'm not his biological father doesn't mean-"

"I know, John. But would it really be so bad? You love us and we both love you, so I really don't see a problem with it," Sherlock explained. "We both know he's different, and how better to protect him from the world than to shelter him ourselves? Forever?"

"He's our __son__ , Sherlock," John said firmly, stepping back slightly. "He's meant to grow up and find someone of his own. Start his own family."

"I don't want another family, I want this one!" Hamish spoke up suddenly, dropping his schoolbag with a thud onto the floor. His teeth were clenched defiantly and John groaned when he saw Sherlock was smiling. "I don't even care if people call me a freak because they already do! I just... I want you. __Both__ of you. I'm not asking you to do anything except... let me in. I don't care about anyone except you two."

"No," John said, shaking his head again and looking away. "Even if I was okay with it, it's illegal. Especially you and Sherlock... that's not- no. You're my son and you just have to wait for the right person to come along. Sherlock!"

John stared in disbelief as Sherlock crossed to Hamish, cupping his face gently with his hand and staring down at him.

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about this," Sherlock said softly, glancing back at John for a moment, his eyes full of warmth. "You love him not just because he's your son, but because he looks like me. Honestly, John, how could this be wrong?"

John watched in surprise as Hamish pulled Sherlock back to look at him, leaning up on his tiptoes and closing his eyes to press a kiss to his lips. The whole flat was silent, John unable to do anything except stare as Sherlock and Hamish moulded against each other perfectly. After a moment, a moan escaped the boy's lips and he stepped closer, pulling Sherlock harder against him to deepen the kiss.

Hamish could barely breathe as Sherlock kissed him. Having believed moments ago that nothing would ever go the way he wanted, he was pleasantly surprised to find Sherlock on his side and actively working to help convince John that this could actually work. Hamish felt his knees go weak, his hands clutching desperately to Sherlock's arms in order to hold himself up. He pushed his tongue forward, desperate for more contact, and groaned helplessly as Sherlock pulled away from him.

"John, come here," Sherlock said, beckoning for the other man to join them.

"No." John shook his head firmly, looking away from them and swallowing nervously. "I don't want this."

Sherlock arched an eyebrow, his eyes travelling down John's body slowly. "Junior says you do." He chuckled as John swore and dropped his hands to cover his crotch, going bright red from embarrassment as well as anger.

"Just __leave__ it, Sherlock! This is wrong. I don't-"

"You don't have to tell anyone," Hamish said, having composed himself again. "I don't care if you keep it a secret. In fact, I'd prefer it if we all never told anyone. It's one less reason for people to look at me strangely, after all, but if we all... if we all feel the same I don't see why we should be fighting it."

"I think it's pretty clear that we don't all feel the same, Hamish," John said quietly. "I love you, please don't get me wrong, but as my son."

"Is that why watching us kiss aroused you?" Sherlock asked sharply. "Please don't think you can lie to me, John. I know how you feel about him because I can read it all in your face whenever you're looking at him. It's more than the fact that he's part of me - you love __different__. I'm surprised, to be honest, that you didn't see this coming. You should have known that living with two Holmes' would not be anyone's definition of normal."

John stared at Sherlock, his head still shaking slightly in disbelief and confusion at what was happening. After a moment, he sucked in a breath and said, "I need some fresh air." Before Sherlock or Hamish could stop him, he had passed them and quickened down the stairs to the front door.

Hamish looked up at Sherlock, the hurt on his face clear. Before he could say anything, Sherlock had pulled him into his arms and hugged him tightly. "Give him time," he said softly. "He's afraid that this is somehow his fault and that if he gives in to how he feels he will be using you. He just wants to protect you."

"I thought he would understand," Hamish said, his voice muffled against Sherlock's chest. "The two of you are the only people I'll ever want or need."

Pushing Hamish back slightly so that he could look into his eyes, Sherlock said, "The two of you are the only one's I'll ever need as well. Go finish your assignments for now and let him cool off. We can try again later once he's had time to digest the idea properly."

Hamish nodded and grabbed his bag from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder and then leaning up to give Sherlock another quick kiss before grinning and heading to his room. Sherlock chuckled to himself before flopping back down on the sofa and steepling his fingers, preparing to wait as long as necessary for John to return.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish and Sherlock begin to win John over and they have some sexy times ;)

John came in an hour later looking tired and confused. He entered the living room slowly, noticing Sherlock right away and sighing in defeat. As he walked over to the sofa, Sherlock sat up to provide room for them to sit beside each other, taking John's hand in his immediately.

"I can't do this, Sherlock," John said softly. "It's not right."

"I need the truth from you," Sherlock said, stroking John's hand lovingly. "Do you want it?"

" _Sherlock_ ," John whined, looking up at the man sadly. "I- I don't... Fine. Yes, I have thought about it and do want it. But we can't! I love him too much to ruin his future with this. If anyone ever found out I can't even imagine what would happen."

"No one would have to know but us," Sherlock soothed, kissing John's forehead. "I love him too but I've never said anything before because I wanted to be sure you did as well. Can we at least try? We all need each other... and we shouldn't be ashamed for loving. That's not something I want Hamish to start believing is okay."

"Of course," John said quickly. "I don't want him to think that either, but-"

"Let us try," Sherlock pleaded. "I love you both so much that it hurts, John, and I can tell from the way you act around him that it's true for you as well. He's told us how he feels, so now we need to give him an answer." The two men stared silently at each other for a moment before John closed his eyes and nodded.

"Just... make sure he's positive this is what he wants, first," John said, still looking very reluctant to go along with the idea.

"He is positive," came the reply, and John was startled as he looked over and saw Hamish standing in the doorway. There was a smug air about him as he walked closer, smiling. "Want me to show you how much?"

John opened his mouth to say something, to stop Hamish's approach, but Sherlock nudged him before standing up. John sat silently as Hamish reached him, sitting where Sherlock had been and reaching out to touch the side of his face gently.

"I know you're scared," he murmured. "But you love me, don't you?"

"Of course I love you, Hamish. That should be obvious." John shivered slightly and leaned into Hamish's hand before looking over at Sherlock nervously. Sherlock was watching peacefully, his arms folded.

"It is," Hamish grinned. "I just wanted to hear you say it."

John looked back at Hamish just as he closed the distance, their lips connecting for the second time that day and wrenching a gasp from John's lungs as he fought to control himself. Hamish tilted his head, opening his mouth and extending his tongue to cautiously lick John's lips. It didn't take long for John to open his mouth as well, his hands finding Hamish's hips to drag him over to straddle him. In the blink of an eye everything was suddenly faster, hotter and much more desperate. John moaned openly, shivers of pleasure shooting through him as Hamish made similar noises against him.

But as John felt Hamish's hands straying downwards, searching and playing, he pulled out of the kiss and shook his head as he tried to catch his breath. "No. You're too young."

"I'm  _eighteen!_ " Hamish cried indignantly.

"I don't care," John said, swallowing and still breathing heavily. "You're my-"

"Boyfriend," Hamish said, biting his lip nervously and waiting for John to react to the word. It was instantaneous as John stilled beneath him, staring up in shock. His thought process darted across his face and Hamish quickly leaned forward to kiss him again, not wanting to give him enough time to decide that this had to be stopped once more.

"Relax, John," Sherlock said, settling beside them on the sofa and resting a hand on Hamish's back. "If Hamish is to lose his virginity to anyone, it should be you."

John let out a spluttering protest as Hamish trailed his lips down to his throat, sucking and licking.

"Who said anything about  _sex_?" he exclaimed, horrified.

"Don't play dumb, John," Sherlock chuckled, leaning over to kiss John's free lips quickly. "If we're going to do this, we may as well do it properly."

"I think you're missing the point," John said, gasping as Hamish found a particularly sensitive bit of skin under his ear. "There is no proper way of doing this but we should at least wait until after the first... _date_ or whatever this is, to have sex!"

"Why wait?" Hamish asked, lifting his head to look at John. "We've known each other for years."

"Because this is no- _ooh,_ " John gasped, his eyes closing as Hamish grinded against him. His ability to concentrate almost vanished completely when Sherlock moved his lips to John's ear, kissing softly and then speaking.

"It doesn't have to be sex right away," he said. "We can build up to that. But don't try and pull the 'we should get to know each other better first' card or you'll just look like an idiot."

"What-" John moaned again, his hips bucking of their own accord as Hamish shifted against him again. "What are you suggesting then?"

"I suggest you stop looking for reasons why we shouldn't do this. I want to see you with Hamish and I have a feeling you want to see him with me as well." Sherlock backed away from John slightly, staring at him long enough to make sure he was watching before turning to Hamish and capturing his lips with his own. He heard John gasp and smirked, putting a hand on the back of Hamish's head so that he could deepen the kiss even more.

Losing himself in the kiss, Hamish crawled from John over to Sherlock, sitting on him and running his hands over every inch of Sherlock that he could reach. When one of his hands moved down to cup Sherlock's member through his trousers the man moaned loudly and thrust against Hamish's hand, biting down gently on his lower lip. They rocked against each other slowly for a moment, before Sherlock's hands came up and pulled Hamish's shirt over his head. The kiss was broken and Sherlock leaned back, staring at his son with a smile.

"You're so beautiful, Hamish," he said, slowly turning his head to John as he allowed a finger to trail teasingly around one of the boys nipples. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"

"You're both beautiful," John said, his voice deeper than usual as it was laced with arousal. "So,  _so_ beautiful."

Pulling Hamish against himself, Sherlock leaned over to John and kissed him lazily while pushing against Hamish's hand, which had returned to its place against his trousers. Just as John shifted closer to get better access and placed a hand gently at the back of Hamish's neck, Sherlock pulled away.

"Now that we've all determined we're happy to make this an official secret," Sherlock said, smirking at John's disappointed expression due to the loss of contact. "I think Hamish should go and finish his assignments."

"Right now?" Hamish exclaimed angrily.

"Two of them are due tomorrow, aren't they?" Sherlock asked pointedly. "Now is hardly the time to start losing marks in your classes just because you prefer spending your time doing  _other_ things."

"Sherlock's right," John said, moving away from the two of them and trying to compose himself. "You've got a brilliant mind, Hamish. I'd hate your marks to drop just because you didn't finish an assignment that you're perfectly capable of finishing."

"Fine," Hamish groaned, pushing away from Sherlock so he could stand up. "But if I'm grumpy at school tomorrow I'm blaming you both for leaving me sexually frustrated."

John went red again, refusing to meet Hamish or Sherlock's eyes.

"You can blame us all you want," Sherlock laughed. "As long as you keep our names out of any conversations."

Picking up his shirt, Hamish nodded in response and then headed off to his room, leaving John and Sherlock sitting on the sofa together. Sherlock looked over at John, who simply shook his head and ran a hand shakily through his hair before going to the kitchen.

Sherlock let him go. It was clear he needed some more time to think things over.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A morning blow job as they all start settling into their new relationship some more :)

The next morning, Hamish awoke to his alarm clock fifteen minutes earlier than normal and crept down the stairs to Sherlock and John's room, opening the door quietly as he slipped in and padded over to the bed. John was still fast asleep - his alarm would be going off in another five minutes - but Sherlock was awake and looked up as soon as Hamish arrived.

Wordlessly, Hamish and Sherlock traded places and Hamish settled down to wait for John to finally wake up as Sherlock left to check his emails.

Five minutes passed and John woke abruptly, slapping off his alarm before rolling over to Hamish and wrapping an arm around him. His eyes were still closed and Hamish smiled, shifting closer. The boy's smile grew wider when he felt John's morning excitement pressing against his thigh and he shifted against it experimentally, drawing a long moan from John.

When John still didn't open his eyes, Hamish slid one hand under the covers and down to where John's erection was straining against his pants. Brushing over it softly, Hamish felt his breath hitch in his throat when it twitched beneath his fingers and passion took over him as his fingers then moved to push back the material and wrap around John's member with nothing separating them.

John gasped, his hips lifting off the bed eagerly and his neck arching back. Hamish sat up partially, getting a better grip and beginning to stroke up and down. He was nervous, having never done anything like this before, but did the best that he could and tried to trust his instincts. From the sounds John was making, he was doing fairly well.

Only a few minutes later, John was crying out and his body seizing up as he came, with Hamish staring at his face and committing every sound and expression to memory for future reference. It was so beautiful.

"Sherlock," John mumbled, sighing and blinking his eyes open at last.

"Close," Hamish grinned, leaning over to kiss John while he was still too tired and sated to do anything. As he pulled back, he could see the surprise on John's face and chuckled quietly.

"Hamish! Wh- where's Sherlock?" John stuttered, a wave of embarrassment crashing over him as he realised what had just happened.

"Living room, probably," Hamish shrugged, pulling his hand out from under the covers and looking at the come which covered part of it. "Does this taste alright?"

John choked, sitting up quickly and holding Hamish's hand away from him.

"Don't- just..." Staring into Hamish's eyes, John suddenly couldn't remember why he was objecting. At first it had been because he was so ashamed of his own secret fantasies about Hamish and he was terrified of being found out, but now that it was clear both Sherlock and Hamish wanted something to happen... why was he still worried? "It's different," he said softly, giving Hamish a small smile as he let go of the boys wrist. "You may not like it the first time."

Hamish had watched John's entire thought process play out on his face and now smiled as he brought his fingers to his mouth, tentatively licking at some of the come. John was right, of course. It tasted funny and he wasn't quite sure he did like it, but he licked it all up because it had come from John and that was special, no matter what it tasted like.

"Sherlock tastes better than I do," John said with a grin. "Although I suppose I am biased."

"I'd love to test that theory for you," Hamish said, his eyes flashing mischievously as he swung a leg over John's waist and pushed the man down onto his back again. "Later, though... right now I want to taste your mouth again." To prove his words true, Hamish leaned down and ghosted his lips across John's, teasing him before slipping his tongue into the man's mouth and exploring every crevice he could find. John was much more responsive this time, holding the back of Hamish's head and battling playfully with his tongue now and again. Having come to the realisation that Hamish really did want this himself, John was able to let go of the things holding him back.

They were both so distracted by each other that when Sherlock entered the room again they didn't notice until he was right upon them, pressing his chest into Hamish's back and reaching down to play with John's hair.

The kiss ended, John looking up past Hamish and blushing as he met Sherlock's smug face. Hamish lay down flat between them, burying his head against John's neck and planting soft kisses on the skin as Sherlock was now close enough to close the distance and kiss John's mouth.

When Sherlock pulled away again, he licked his lips. "Good morning."

"Excellent morning, actually," John replied, smiling at the other man warmly. Sherlock could read in his eyes that things had changed - he was now happy to continue with whatever they were doing as long as they all continued to want it and as long as no one else found out what was going on.

"I'd love to keep Hamish home from school," Sherlock said, one hand moving to Hamish's hair and stroking gently. "But then all his work on those assignments would go to waste."

"You could take them in for me," Hamish suggested cheekily, glancing over his shoulder at Sherlock. "Just tell them I'm too ill to come in but that I managed to finish the assignments before being overcome with whatever it is that's got me bed-ridden."

"Hmm," Sherlock said thoughtfully, pressing a kiss to Hamish's cheek. "Can you imagine the looks on their faces if I told them John and I were keeping you bed-ridden because we were sexually insatiable? Oh John, relax, I won't."

Hearing Sherlock's words had startled John into making a disapproving face before he could help it. It would take a while before he'd be able to relax around anyone properly when discussing Hamish or relationships. The thought of anyone finding out absolutely terrified him, but holding Hamish in his arms and having Sherlock there as well just felt right to him.

"Well," John said after a moment of silent consideration. "Sherlock's right. You need to get up and get ready for school and  _I_ need to get ready for work."

"Aren't you going to let me come, too?" Hamish asked innocently, looking into John's eyes with a small smile. At first, John didn't understand what the boy was meaning, but when Hamish shifted so that his arousal was pressed against John's thigh, it became clear.

"Uh-" John's mind stuttered, conjuring up an image of Hamish thrown on his back in pleasure and refusing to let him think of anything else for the moment. Before he had a chance to make his mind up about what to do, Sherlock was rolling Hamish onto his back beside John and kissing him desperately. It lasted five seconds in total, and when Sherlock pulled back Hamish was flushed and panting.

"Please," Hamish gasped out, slipping his pants off and thrusting his hips into the air shamelessly. Sherlock quickly took hold of it in his hand, beginning to stroke painfully slowly.

"You can do this if you want, John," Sherlock said, glancing over at the other man with a smile. "Come here."

Unable to resist the temptation, John sat up and shifted over to take Hamish's member in his hand when Sherlock released it. Pumping slightly faster than Sherlock had been, John was able to elicit loud, breathy moans from Hamish. He couldn't hep but grin, and was still staring at Hamish's face when Sherlock suddenly grabbed him and pulled him into a kiss. His eyes closed automatically and he was somewhat upset that he couldn't continue to observe Hamish's face, but Sherlock's tongue was working wonders in his mouth so he didn't care.

Hamish was finding it difficult to keep his eyes open, yet he was desperate to do so since the sight before him was increasing his arousal by quite a lot. He squirmed, feeling the pressure building within him and gasping every time he caught a glimpse of tongues involved in the kiss above him. He didn't last much longer, his toes curling and his hands clutching desperately at the sheets beneath him as he suddenly cried out and let his eyes close, orgasming.

He had barely relaxed back against the bed again when Sherlock was wiping his come onto his hand and smearing it across John's lips before the other man realised what was coming. Sherlock then proceeded to lean forward and lick Hamish's come from John's lips slowly, savouring the taste and allowing John time to lick some of it himself.

"Do you have any idea how hot that is?" Hamish asked, his voice slightly strained as he stared up at them. Sherlock turned to look down at him, grinning.

"I'd love to watch you do this with John," Sherlock said huskily, but before Hamish could voice just how absolutely ready he was to go ahead with that idea, Sherlock went on. "Maybe when you get home from school we can do it."

Hamish deflated slightly, remembering that he did indeed have to go to school that day and couldn't just stay at home with John and Sherlock.

"Do I get another kiss first?" he asked slyly.

"Once you're ready to leave," John said, getting off the bed and putting an end to their activities by pulling Sherlock off the bed as well.

With a groan, Hamish rolled his eyes dramatically at this. Nevertheless, he stood up and left the room in order to get ready for school so that he could receive another kiss before leaving. John, too, began to get ready for work so that after dropping Hamish off at school he could go straight there. Aside from the side glances and knowing smiles, their morning was full of the usual routine.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explicit sex. Basically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PWP? I promise I will try and get a plot for this story soon (I do have ideas I swear) but for the moment enjoy some more sexiness as Hamish loses his virginity.
> 
> Also I added some more tags to this story because of what I'm planning to happen in the future, so check them out and see whether you still want to stick with this story... which I really hope you do!

John was finding it difficult to concentrate at work when he arrived, accidentally prescribing a couple of patients the wrong medicine because his mind was so fixedly on other things. Well, one thing in particular. _Hamish_.

After having the boy show his blatant interest and after now doing some things together with him and Sherlock, John was surprised to find so many more fantasies leaping to his mind. When he had his lunch break and took some time to think it all over, he came to the conclusion that there had been a nagging in his mind about Hamish when the boy was between sixteen and seventeen.

Hamish just looked so much like Sherlock, John had never really stood a chance. Not only did he share looks, but Hamish _acted_ like Sherlock sometimes, with his own little deductions and hatred for the rest of the human population. It must have been the similarities to Sherlock which got John thinking about him in the first place.

Now he couldn't stop.

A sudden beep from his phone halfway through his afternoon patients had John excusing himself to pull it out and check.

_Is there any chance you could fake sick and come home? Small emergency. SH_

Apologising to the patient he had been in the middle of dealing with, John quickly typed out a reply message to Sherlock.

_How small? Is it anything Greg could help with? I am at work and I do need the money, remember. JW_

_It definitely requires your help to sort it out. Hurry. SH_

Sighing, John could tell that he'd lost the argument. Turning his attention back to his patient and sending her off with a prescription for a nasal spray, he then slowly made his way out to Sarah to start the process of getting back home.

"Hey..."

"John! Hi, you've only got a couple more, if that's-'

"No, sorry, Sarah," John interrupted her quickly, frowning and shaking his head. "I'm actually feeling really sick at the moment... I think I've got food poisoning from the sandwich I ate for lunch. I was wondering if you'd be able to take care of things if I headed home for a bit?"

Sarah looked up at him with a worried expression, quickly nodding. "That's fine, of course. I think there were only three more people you needed to see, anyway, so that's not too hard for me to do. Go home and make sure you rest. Let me know tomorrow morning if you're well enough to come in or I'll call one of our other casuals to come in."

Agreeing to do so, John then collected his things and headed out to his car. He was glad that he and Sherlock had decided to buy a car once they became a proper family, because it meant he didn't have to wait around trying to find a cab and could just leave straight away.

When he did get home, he headed inside as quickly as he could, looking around desperately and hesitating in confusion when there was no sign of Sherlock in the living room.

Emergency. Had he fallen over somewhere? Cut himself? Was he in the bathroom bleeding all over the floor? It would be so typical of him to call something like that a _small_ emergency. But as John darted to the bathroom he found nothing, and finally he made his way into their bedroom, panic beginning to build within him as one last thought jumped to his mind – _what if he'd been kidnapped?_

"John, I was wondering how long it would take you to get in here," Sherlock said, looking up at the other man. He was standing beside their bed, completely naked, and looking down at where Hamish was lying in the centre of their bed also with no clothes on.

The difference between the two figures was that Hamish was on his knees, his arse shoved up in full view of John with one finger slowly working in and out of himself.

"John," the boy murmured softly, tilting his head to look back at the older man. "I want you."

John forgot how to breathe for a moment. Heat flooded his face and he gulped desperately, glancing at Sherlock and then down at Hamish again, shaking his head slightly. He might have been fantasising about things along these lines all day, but it would still take some getting used to the fact that it was now a reality.

"He wants you to take his virginity," Sherlock said softly, stepping over to John and putting a hand on his arm. "And I want you to, as well. But now it's your decision to make. Is this what you want?"

Looking into Sherlock's eyes, John smiled slightly. This was all so weird, but he did want it. He wanted to make Sherlock and Hamish happy and he- he wanted to make Hamish moan and compare all the sounds to the ones Sherlock made. He wanted to know how tight Hamish would feel around his cock.

"Yes, Sherlock," he said, nodding finally and smiling over at Hamish as well. "I do. I want... I'll do this for you, Hamish. I might be a little bit upset that you're skipping school just to get off, but I can't complain."

"Then hurry up and get over here, if you want it so much!" Hamish pleaded, removing his finger and sitting up a bit, watching eagerly as John began stripping off his clothes. "Sherlock said he won't touch me unless you're around. Can you please tell him that's stupid?"

Chuckling as he kicked off his socks and was finally naked as well, John crossed to the bed and pressed a soft kiss to Hamish's cheek.

"We'll talk about that later," he said. "For now, are you going to be more comfortable the way you are, or on your back?"

Hamish hesitated before shrugging and glancing up at Sherlock.

"Maybe on my back? That way I'm not holding my own weight up at all and I can just... focus."

Deciding that was a good idea, John gently pushed for Hamish to turn over and lie down before asking for the lube from Sherlock. The other man had already had it out and sitting on the bedside table, having helped Hamish use some of it before John arrived. He'd suggested it so that Hamish would get an idea of what it would feel like.

Gently settling between Hamish's legs, John smiled as the boy sighed happily and arched his hips up for a better angle. Sherlock was standing beside the bed still, his hand on his erection as he watched the two most important people in his life getting ready to join together.

"I'm going to use my fingers first, okay?" John said quietly, pouring a generous amount of lube onto his hand and spreading it all over his fingers. "Just like what you were doing. I'll go slowly and you'll be fine, but let me know immediately if anything hurts or feels too uncomfortable, okay?"

"Of course," Hamish said, sounding slightly impatient as he nodded and pushed his hips towards John again. Breathing deeply, John slowly nodded in return.

Slipping the first finger in was easy, but John could feel the flesh beginning to tighten around him and smiled as he saw Hamish close his eyes and tip his head back, hands fisting in the sheets beneath him.

"Different..." the boy murmured, clearly referring to the difference between John's finger and his own finger.

"But good?" John asked, wanting to clarify before he went any further.

"Perfect. More." Hamish opened his eyes again and stared up at John, licking his lips eagerly. "Please."

Adding more fingers was a slow process which made Hamish gasp and moan deliciously every now and then. John found that his breathing was speeding up significantly and finally, after working three fingers in and out for a while to make sure Hamish was used to it, John slid them out.

"Think you're ready?" he asked.

"Yes," Hamish and Sherlock said at the same time, and John chuckled as he looked up at Sherlock. The man was watching them both with hungry eyes, his hand still stroking himself very slowly. He nodded his head, saying, "His body is very relaxed. He's definitely ready."

"Well that's good to know," John said with a warm smile. He reached for the lube again, adding more to his waiting cock before shifting forward again and bracing his hands on Hamish's thighs, the head of his cock gently pressing against the entrance.

"Do it," Hamish begged, reaching up to grab hold of John's head. "Please, I need it. Just do it!"

Needing no further encouragement, John pushed in until he was fully sheathed in Hamish's body, both of them moaning at the overwhelming sensations. Hamish's tight arse felt so good around John's cock that he had to concentrate and make sure he didn't make any sharp or desperate movements to get himself off which might hurt the boy.

"Let me know," John gasped, "When you're ready for me to move again. You are okay, right? It's not too much?"

"Too much?" Hamish asked, another groan leaving his mouth as he shifted slightly. "No, _no_ , not too much. It's perfect. It's you. I love you, John. Definitely okay for you to move again!"

Grinning, John lowered himself down so that he could press a kiss to Hamish's lips, distracting the boy with his tongue as he slowly pulled out a bit before pushing back in and beginning to set a steady rhythm. Hamish's moans were so much more delicious now that they were being poured directly into his mouth, and John reached a hand between their bodies to grip Hamish's cock and slowly stroke it in time with his thrusts.

"Oh, Joh-m-Mish," Sherlock groaned from the side, turning side on as he reached his climax, coming into his hand. He had been trying to last as long as they did, but the sight of so many things happening in front of him all at once was too much.

Hamish was certainly finding it difficult to last as well, his entire body trembling from the pleasure it was experiencing. When John swiped his thumb over the head of Hamish's cock, the boy did lose it. His come spurted between them and John broke off the kiss, allowing Hamish to gasp openly and suck in deep breaths.

"A-ahh... oh... John..." Hamish's chest heaved up and down as he drifted down from his orgasm, still feeling John moving in and out of him as he drew closer to his own. "I love you."

"I-" John's words were cut off as he pushed in all the way and groaned, his body seizing up as he also finally reached his orgasm and came inside of Hamish. Collapsing on top of the boy in exhaustion, he finished, "I love you too. So much." Turning his head, he kissed Hamish's neck lazily before gently pulling out and rolling onto his back beside the boy, breathing heavily.

"Was that a satisfactory first time, Hamish?" Sherlock asked seriously, moving closer to the bed and smiling at the two men who were basking in the after-glow.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" Hamish laughed, stretching his legs out and then extending his arms to pull Sherlock down onto the bed with them. "That was better than I ever could have imagined!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish makes a 'friend' and meets a dangerous individual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say hello to the plot I promised you!

It was surprisingly easy to settle into a new routine of life in 221B. Hamish still did all of his school work and attended all the classes he had to, Sherlock and John still solved cases together whenever they popped up, and John still worked occasional shifts at the clinic. The only real difference was the evenings and mornings which they would all spend together, sometimes just enjoying each others presence and other times expressing themselves more intimately.

John had come around – with the promise that they would all keep this a tight secret _forever_ – and the weeks were already seeming to fly by. What had once been a taboo relationship even as far as Hamish was concerned was now a perfectly normal part of their lives.

Hamish was lying on his bed thinking about this exact fact when his phone buzzed with a message. He had just finished all his homework for the day and rolled over, picking his phone up from his bedside table to see who was texting him. He didn't have many – okay, _any_ – real friends at school and the only other people in his life were downstairs, so who was trying to contact him?

_Hamish, it's Alex. That_ _geography_ _assignment is giving me a fuckton of grief and I know you've already done it because I saw your half-finished one in class. I need help and I'll give you anything in return. AM_

Alex Martin. One of the other 'smart' kids in school and in Hamish's classes. They'd never really spoken much because Alex pissed him off and apparently it was mutual. They didn't like each other and even Hamish's parents had heard about the silent feud. It was possible that it had simply been born out of a competitive desire to be proven the best, but right now Hamish couldn't make that fit what Alex was asking for.

Although, to be fair, he and Alex hadn't really had a run-in for a month. Maybe the other boy was trying to move on from their past disagreements. Obviously he was desperate if he was offering 'anything' in return.

_How much help do you need, exactly? Have you started the assignment? HWH_

Hamish wasn't trying to be condescending, but he couldn't help asking the second question. Alex struck him as the type of boy who, if he didn't know something, wouldn't even try other than to get someone else to work on it for him. If Hamish was going to help him, he would be teaching him a lesson at the same time.

_I've done enough to realise I don't have a clue what I'm doing. AM_

With a sigh, Hamish got off his bed and made his way downstairs, finding John in the kitchen and Sherlock lying on the sofa.

"Would it be okay if I went out for a bit, to help a friend with some homework?" he asked, addressing the question to the room so that whoever was paying more attention could answer him.

"A _friend_?" Sherlock scoffed almost immediately, his eyes closed.

John paused in his preparations of making dinner and walked closer to Hamish. "Ignore Sherlock. Who is it and what do they need help with?"

"One of my classmates is struggling with the geography assignment," Hamish replied, smoothly leaving out any names. John and Sherlock knew about Alex and even though Hamish felt ready to move on and put the feud behind him, he wasn't sure they would be.

"It sounds fine to me," John said with a smile. "I'm just glad to see you're putting yourself out there and making more friends."

"Yes, one more skill you inherited from John and not me," Sherlock said, pulling himself up and fixing his gaze on Hamish suspiciously. "But why now?"

"Why now what?" Hamish deliberately twisted the question around, feigning ignorance to what was being asked of him.

"Leave him alone," John said with a chuckle, looking at Sherlock now and giving him a _look_. "Making friends doesn't mean he's going to leave us, you know. We've got friends, remember? Greg, Molly, Mrs Hudson."

"Exactly," Hamish said quickly, leaning forward and kissing John on the cheek before either of his parents could say another word. He grinned at Sherlock and gave a wave before turning to the door. "I'll be back for dinner, don't worry. Love you!"

Out the door, down the stairs and out onto the street.

_Now is a good time for me. Where do you want to meet? HWH_

_My house. AM_

Hamish was slightly surprised that Alex was inviting him into his home instead of a middle-ground territory such as a library, but it made him smile. Was this what making friends actually felt like? Given, he was much more excited about the fact that he was going to be obviously smarter about a topic than Alex for once, but he could at least _pretend_ to enjoy making a friend at the same time.

Once Alex texted him the address, Hamish set off. Thankfully it wasn't too far and after a short walk he arrived at the right flat. He knocked confidently and then waited, glancing around and musing silently at how close they actually did live to each other.

When the door opened, Hamish was surprised to find himself face-to-face with an adult Alex. The resemblance was uncanny, yet there were clear signs of more maturity in the face of the man before him now.

"Hamish Watson-Holmes," he introduced himself quickly, extending a hand politely.

The man looked him over silently for a moment, his gaze calculating and appearing to take in every single detail he could find. Then a smile suddenly split his face and he took Hamish's hand in a firm grip.

"It's such a pleasure to meet you. I'm James Martin, Alex's father," he said sincerely, his face almost glowing. "Alex has told me so much about you. He says you're much cleverer than he is and you're the top of all your classes. Is that right?"

Blushing, Hamish shrugged.

"It might be... a bit of an exaggeration."

"Well you _look_ like a clever boy. Anyway, you're here to help him with his assignment, not stand here and talk to me all day." James released Hamish's hand and stepped back, ushering him inside.

Walking in, Hamish felt that something was off. The man had been so excited to see him, and apparently Alex had been saying _good_ things about him? He was beginning to wonder whether he should have come after all.

Alex was in the small kitchen, at the table which took up most of the space and reminded Hamish of his own home.

"Hey," Alex greeted, nodding to a chair for Hamish to sit and join him. He had what looked like all of his geography books and notes around him as well as a laptop on one corner of the table. "I can't make sense of any of it."

"It's just geography," Hamish said as he sat down, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

"Just geography," James commented from behind them, making Hamish jump as he hadn't realised that the man had followed him. "You're right, Alex, he _is_ smarter than you."

Clenching his jaw, Alex opened the lid of his laptop and shoved a book at Hamish.

"From the beginning, then?" Hamish asked nervously, feeling the hair on the back of his neck standing on end from James' proximity.

"No, let's go through it backwards. _Yes_ from the beginning you idiot." Alex rolled his eyes and suddenly had a hand on his head, his father leaning in to whisper into his ear.

Hamish looked down quickly, his face burning red in embarrassment as he felt awkward and out of place in this situation. Despite his attempts to be kept out of whatever was going on, though, his ears did pick up the whispered, "I told you to be nice to him."

Good to know this wasn't Alex's idea, then.

"Can we just get this over with?" Hamish snapped then, desperate to get out of here as soon as possible. The atmosphere was stifling him already.

James straightened up and gave a large, fake smile before leaving the room.

With a sigh, Hamish glanced at Alex before murmuring, "Do you want me to just write it all up for you? It'll be quicker and then we can get out of each other's way again."

"I don't even like geography. I only took it because my dad said it was necessary for my future. I really can't see how, though."

Hamish looked over his shoulder to check that James hadn't reappeared suddenly before saying, "He did seem a bit... overbearing."

"Not that one," Alex interrupted quickly. "My other dad."

"Oh," Hamish said in surprise, straightening in his chair slightly and wondering why the knowledge of Alex having two father's as well was so shocking. "What's his name?"

"Sebastian," Alex replied stiffly. "Now are you going to write this thing, or what?"

Something was very, very wrong, but Hamish said nothing as he took Alex's laptop and began typing out a second assignment for him – there were some parts which Alex would need to flesh out more, but Hamish added enough information so that it would be easy once he was done with it.

Once he'd done as much as he thought he needed to do, Hamish passed it back to Alex who had been playing on his phone.

"The bits in bold just need to be rewritten and explained some more, but I've made it obvious what you have to write. Just a good idea if it's in your own style, you know." Clenching his hands into fists in his lap, he wondered if it would be rude if he just stood up and left now.

"Thanks," Alex said as he put his phone down and glanced over the assignment. "So what do you want?"

Only then did Hamish remember that he had been offered a reward for this.

"Uh... nothing. Nothing yet, anyway. I haven't really thought about it."

"Don't take too long to decide." Starting to pack his things up, Alex gave a jerk of his head to say Hamish was dismissed.

He was almost out the door when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"It was so lovely to see you, Hamish," James said with a warm smile. This was different to his fake smile from earlier and Hamish actually found himself smiling in return. "Alex doesn't have very many friends and I am hoping we'll see more of you. Send your parents my regards."

Swallowing and nodding jerkily, Hamish then gave a small wave and disappeared down the road quickly.

James and Sebastian Martin. Why did those names ring a bell?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamish isn't quite as clever as his father.

Hamish was quiet during dinner, thinking over what had happened at Alex's house and wondering why it left him with an uncomfortable feeling. He still couldn't work out why the names James and Sebastian seemed familiar to him when put together, so he had tried to brush it off. It didn't matter, anyway. He and Alex weren't friends so he would probably never have to speak to the other boys parents ever again.

"Hamish?" John asked, his voice suddenly cutting through his thoughts.

"Sorry, yeah?" Hamish looked up and smiled, not wanting either of his parents to start thinking something was wrong. They'd just end up slipping into 'parental' mode again and he preferred it when they treated him how he wanted – like a boyfriend.

"You seem distracted," John commented, reaching out and resting a hand on Hamish's. "You can tell us anything, you know."

"I'm fine," Hamish said with a grin and a shrug. "Just going over some stuff in my head that I need to know for class tomorrow." He'd finished eating, so pushed his plate away with his free hand, turning his other to grab John's and pull him closer. " _You're_ the distraction, though."

Smiling, John blushed a deep red but allowed himself to be drawn in for a kiss which successfully cleared his mind of all previous thoughts and worries.

"If you have a test tomorrow you should go to bed early," Sherlock said from where he was sitting on the other side of John. He was staring at Hamish with narrowed eyes, his mind spinning with observations of his son.

Pulling away from John, Hamish nodded reluctantly. "That would be a good idea, I guess."

"What's the test on?" John asked as he swallowed and began collecting their empty plates to take to the sink.

"Geography," Hamish lied smoothly. "That's why my friend needed some help earlier."

"You keep calling this person a friend, but you've never had one before. Why won't you give us a name?" Sherlock asked as John stood up, his tone of voice accusing.

"Sherlock," John warned gently, but Sherlock ignored him.

"Maybe I want it to be a secret," Hamish said slowly, meeting his father's gaze and keeping his expression neutral. Two could play this game. Hamish did have part of Sherlock's brain, after all. He wasn't quite as good as his father, but he certainly believed he was good enough to lie to him. "He's the first person I've befriended on my own, so I want to have that all to myself for a bit."

"There," John said, joining the conversation again quickly. "A reasonable explanation. Can we drop it for now, then? Sherlock, Hamish will tell us who his friend is when he's ready. You don't have to worry about it."

With a loud sigh and a roll of his eyes, Sherlock nodded his head. "Fine, fine. Hamish can take care of himself, after all. Wise growing boy and all the rest."

Chuckling, Hamish stood up. "I'm off to bed. Love you both."

*

Hamish's next day at school was fairly boring for the most part. He and Alex avoided each other like the plague – no change there – and Hamish continued to work at ignoring Lucas' attempts to talk to him. That boy was far too much like his mother for his own good.

Once it was time to go home, Hamish was on his way out the front doors of the school when he ran into a familiar face.

"Oh, hello Hamish! You haven't seen Alex, have you? I'm looking for him." James Martin glanced over Hamish into the school, still looking around for his son.

"Sorry," Hamish said with a shrug. "I haven't seen him much all day."

With a nod, James settled against the wall to wait. "He'll show up eventually. So, how was your day?"

Glancing nervously in the direction of the car park, Hamish then turned his attention back to the man. "Fine. Boring, really."

"For a clever mind like yours, I imagine it must be _very_ boring."

"I'm just glad I don't have to spend extra time simply trying to master the subjects. I get my work done and then the rest of the time is mine to do what I like with."

James smiled again, and it was such an infectious smile that Hamish found himself blushing and smiling along with him. He was very handsome when he smiled, Hamish noted.

"And do you have a special someone you like to share your free time with?" James asked, winking at the boy suggestively.

Hamish had opened his mouth to respond before his mind caught up and he quickly changed what he had been planning to say. "No, I'm not in a relationship." How had James made him feel so comfortable in such a short amount of time, that he had almost blurted out who he was seeing?

"That's a shame," James said, looking away into the school building again. "Has anyone caught your eye, though? A gorgeous boy like you could probably get anyone he wanted at this school."

"Even if that were true," Hamish said, rolling his eyes. "I wouldn't want to. They're all so young and immature."

James said nothing in response and the two stood in silence. Hamish took the opportunity to look over at the car park again, his eyes falling on John's car just in time to see the door open and John step out. He was looking around, clearly searching for Hamish, and Hamish turned to tell James he had to go only to find that the man had begun walking inside the building.

Before Hamish could slip away, though, James said over his shoulder, "You should come over for dinner tonight. Alex doesn't have to be there if you think he's too young for you."

Hamish was still staring and trying to make sense of the man's words when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see John standing behind him.

"Hamish, are you okay?"

"Yeah, sorry. I thought I'd forgotten one of my books."

*

Convincing Sherlock and John to let him go out for dinner with a 'friend' was a lot easier than Hamish had anticipated. John must have spoken to Sherlock when he wasn't around because Sherlock didn't make another single comment about his new friend or ask for a name again.

Hamish wasn't even sure why he was doing this yet, but there couldn't be any harm in it. He _was_ making a friend, even though he was leading his parents to believe the friend was his own age and a student at school. That didn't matter. This man James was someone Hamish could actually see himself becoming friends with and he liked that. He _wanted_ a friend like James.

Reaching the flat, he hesitated outside it. He hadn't given the man an answer, so what if James had assumed he wouldn't come? What if Alex was in there and gave Hamish more grief? What if Sebastian was home and wanted to know why Hamish was coming over?

Hamish had just decided he was acting way too paranoid when the door opened and James' face appeared, beaming down at him. A strangely warm, tingly feeling spread through Hamish.

"You came," James said happily, opening the door wider and stepping back to let Hamish inside. "I sent Alex to visit Sebastian, so we've got the place to ourselves. Do you like stir-fry?"

"Yeah, it's great." Hamish nodded as he made his way through to the kitchen. He could smell the food cooking and followed his nose to the source, hearing James following closely behind him. "Does Sebastian not live with you?" he asked curiously once he'd reached the food.

James stepped past him to continue cooking and shook his head.

"No, we split up a while ago. He moved out and Alex said he wanted to stay here but still goes to visit Sebastian now and again."

Hamish leaned against the bench and frowned over at James. He was sure there had just been a slight Irish lilt to the man's voice. "Are you Irish?"

Those eyes slid across to him again, almost snake-like, and there was a look of deep approval in them as James grinned and nodded his head in confirmation of Hamish's question. "I come from Ireland originally, but I've been in London for so long that my accent's almost entirely gone now. I can't believe you picked up on it!"

"It's gone now, but I heard it a bit when you spoke before," Hamish said, shrugging and looking down. He was inwardly pleased with himself for causing James to give him such a warm smile. It felt good. This was the first time he'd ever met someone who took an immediate liking to him without knowing anything about his fathers.

James steered the conversation slightly after that, asking a few questions about Hamish's school work and discovering that they both had a fascination with astronomy.

"My father doesn't understand why I like it," Hamish explained as James began dishing the food out onto two plates. "He thinks it's pointless to learn about things which don't directly affect us, but I love it. All those stars and planets rotating around in synchronisation."

James directed Hamish to the table, nodding his head in agreement as they sat down. "Of course! There's so much to learn about the universe around us and we've only scraped the surface. Have you ever thought about becoming an astronaut?"

Hamish shrugged the question off with a laugh and a shake of his head as he started eating and James let it go also, falling silent as he too began to eat.

Once they had finished their meal and all the plates were in the sink, Hamish found himself sitting on the sofa with James. The man was very relaxed in his posture and it helped Hamish to feel more comfortable as well, leaning into the cushions and looking up at James lazily.

This felt like friendship.

In a swift and sudden movement, James overturned Hamish's settled perceptions of their relationship as he leaned over the boy and put a hand on his thigh.

"You are such a clever, clever boy, Hamish," he drawled softly, revelling in the wide-eyed expression beneath him. "I've never met anyone like you before."

"S-Sorry, but... James... what are you doing?" Hamish asked, squirming uncomfortably but being held in place by James' firm hand.

"You don't mean to tell me you've never had anyone flirt with you before, do you?" James asked with a teasing grin. "That's definitely something I'll need to do more of, in that case. Because you deserve to be flirted with."

"I- what? You're flirting with me? But-"

"You're not seeing someone else are you? You told me you weren't in a relationship."

"I... no, I'm not, but..."

"Then what's the problem, Hamish? I'm exactly your type." James smiled his comforting smile again, his hand stroking Hamish's thigh slowly and sending shivers through the boy which weren't quite bad yet weren't quite wanted either.

"My type? You think you know what I like then, do you?" Hamish asked, trying to keep a brave face even though he was feeling remarkably nervous about the whole situation. He had no problem flirting with Sherlock and John, but this was a man who had only just met him and yet, for some reason, _wanted_ him. The thought thrilled Hamish.

Leaning closer and grinning slyly, James wet his lips with his tongue – noticing smugly that Hamish's eyes darted to it as he made the movement. "I know you have a thing for older men, thanks to your comment the other day after school about your immature peers. Your pupil's are dilated and your breathing sped up significantly when I moved towards you just now." Slowly moving his free hand to Hamish's neck, James stroked the skin softly. "Your heart is racing and you keep glancing at my lips. It's quite obvious that you want me."

The last time Hamish had been this aroused was when Sherlock had been leaning over him, telling him what _he_ could see and read from the boy's face and movements as they had sex. James was a nice man, and good-looking, but if he hadn't shown such a brilliant mind for observation Hamish would have been resolute with his decision to deny his advances despite all other traits he had going for him.

"Was I right?" James asked softly, the hint of an Irish lilt back in his voice and only adding to the desire building within Hamish. "You like older men, don't you? Because you can actually hold an intellectual conversation."

"Yes," Hamish said with a sudden certainty, nodding and glancing down at James' lips again. "Yes, I do. And I want..."

James had only been waiting for confirmation of Hamish's thoughts and didn't bother listening to any of the other words coming out of the boy's mouth. Instead, he leaned down quickly to press their lips together and swung a leg over Hamish's lap. Now straddling him, the boy was rather nicely pinned down.

Hamish threaded his fingers through James' short hair and kissed back eagerly, his heart pounding in his chest. A quiet moan built in his throat as their groins connected and he pushed his hips up desperately for more friction only to have James move further away with a chuckle.

Pulling away with a gasp, Hamish whined, "Stop teasing!"

"Someone's been teaching you how to kiss," James mused with a sly grin, pressing a feathery-light kiss to the boy's throat. "Are you sure you don't have a secret lover hiding somewhere?"

"I'm sure," Hamish lied firmly, trying to coax James' lips back up by pulling gently on his hair. "And no one's been teaching me."

Letting the matter drop even though he didn't believe a word, James went back to kissing Hamish and allowed for more friction between them. The boy responded so well to all of his ministrations and it was very clear to James that Hamish hadn't learnt his skills on his own.

Just as James had almost finished undoing the last button of Hamish's shirt, a loud ringing combined with a strong vibration came from the boy's trouser pocket.

"Shit," Hamish mumbled as he pushed James back just enough to fish his phone out and see who was calling him. "It..." Faltering, his heart sank as he read the name on the screen. "It's my dad."

"Does he know where you are?" James asked, moving back to his own side of the sofa.

"Yeah," Hamish lied unconvincingly. "I should..." Before he could finish his sentence or raise the phone to his ear it stopped ringing and his face fell, worry written all over it. "I have to go."

Hamish stood up quickly, but turned back when James grabbed his arm loosely.

"If he knows where you are, can't you just send him a text to say you'll be home a bit later? Even call him back, if you like, to let him know you're fine."

Staring down at James' kind, hopeful face, Hamish felt awful. He pulled his arm free and shook his head slowly, stumbling over his feet a bit as he walked backwards towards the door. He couldn't believe what he had just been doing. Cheating on Sherlock and John. He had cheated on them.

"No, I... I'm sorry, but I _have_ to go."

Knowing he couldn't explain himself any further even though he desperately wanted to, Hamish fled the house.

James was sitting quietly on his sofa for another ten minutes before he smiled darkly and pulled his phone from his pocket, dialling _Sebastian Moran_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Hamish share a moment after Sherlock realises what's happened.

Sherlock looked up when the door finally opened and Hamish entered the living room. The boy was fidgeting nervously, his eyes darting around and adding to his obvious unease. Glancing over Hamish's clothes quickly as well, Sherlock scowled. Crumpled shirt; one half-undone button; subconscious inward rolling of the lips.

Not just a _friend_ then, Sherlock thought to himself as he leaned back in his chair and looked over at John.

"Hamish?" John asked, stepping over to the boy quickly as he too had picked up on the distress coming from him. He gripped Hamish's shoulders and asked, "Are you okay? I tried calling you to ask if you knew when you'd be home but you didn't answer."

"Yeah, sorry," Hamish said with a smile, trying to reassure his parents by lying. "I put it on silent so it wouldn't interrupt the meal."

Sherlock pressed his fingers together thoughtfully as John worried over Hamish some more, asking how the meal had gone and whether something had happened with Hamish's new friend to get him all flustered as he was.

"Honestly, I'm just a bit high on adrenaline because there was a cat outside when I got here. It jumped out at me and gave me a scare. That's it, I swear."

Hamish was a terrible liar, but Sherlock couldn't help smiling at the boy's attempt.

"Just a cat," John laughed, pulling Hamish into a hug. "You scared _me_."

Hamish put his arms around John in return, hugging tightly and looking past him to where Sherlock was starting back. There was a tense moment between the two before John pushed Hamish back from the hug and grinned at him, stealing his attention once more.

"I'm just glad you're out making friends your own age. I'm really proud of you, Hamish. I really am."

Chuckling nervously, Hamish looked down but still clung on to him as he said, "Could you stop acting like my dad and start acting like my boyfriend again now, please?"

John hummed thoughtfully before lowering his lips to the boy's neck and muttering, "I wonder what you could possibly mean by that?" He kissed slowly and Hamish tipped his head back, his mouth open in pleasure but his eyes staring up at the ceiling in fear.

Finally standing up, Sherlock cleared his throat and brought John's head around to look at him.

"It's been a long day," Sherlock spoke. "I think it would be best if Hamish went to bed now and we should think about doing the same." Pasting a smile to his face as he touched John's waist lightly, Sherlock added, "I know you two are both sex addicts, but you mustn't let it rule your lives."

"Oi, shut up," John laughed, giving Sherlock a playful shove. "I'm not a _sex addict_."

"Sherlock's right, though," Hamish interrupted. "I'm really tired so I think I'll go straight up to bed now." Leaning forward to kiss John on the cheek – after the briefest hesitation as he'd been aiming for his lips at first – Hamish then stepped away and offered Sherlock a smile.

"Don't forget I'm proud of you," John said.

"I won't. I promise."

As Hamish began climbing the stairs to his room, Sherlock turned to John and asked, "Are the files Lestrade gave us still on our bed? We'll need to put them away before we can sleep as well."

"Oh, yeah." Nodding as he remembered, John began walking to their bedroom. "Are you coming?"

"I was thinking of staying up a bit longer tonight. I have some things on my mind regarding the case which I need to think about."

"No problem," John called from the doorway. "Just don't be too long."

Sherlock waited until John was definitely inside the bedroom before turning and following in Hamish's footsteps. He had no intention of telling John what he had observed the minute Hamish had re-entered the flat, but he knew he had to do something. Speaking to Hamish was only logical.

"Hamish," Sherlock said softly as he knocked on the boy's door. "May I come in?"

"Uh- I... I'm not decent," Hamish called back feebly.

Frowning at the terrible excuse, Sherlock nudged the door open anyway and peered inside to see Hamish sitting, fully clothed, on his bed. The boy looked even worse now than he had earlier downstairs and Sherlock moved slowly to sit beside him.

They remained in silence for a while, Sherlock sitting perfectly still while Hamish fidgeted with his hands and swallowed multiple times. Hamish was so tense that even John would be able to tell if he came up right now that there was something terribly wrong.

Finally he snapped.

"It was stupid. I got carried away."

Sherlock was glad that Hamish had given up pretending, but saddened to hear that his suspicions were true. Hamish _had_ kissed someone else. He clearly regretted it, but all that told Sherlock was that Hamish was severely upset with himself for actually wanting it at the time. If he had been kissed against his will it would not have turned into such a huge problem.

"He must be special," Sherlock commented. "To have you lose yourself in a moment."

"He's not. I don't want him." Hamish rubbed the palms of his hands on his trousers.

"Then why did you kiss him?"

Looking up to meet Sherlock's gaze for the first time, Hamish shrugged helplessly. "Because... because he _wanted_ me. No one else has ever wanted me except you and John and- and you both needed convincing. You didn't just want me immediately and have no problems taking me."

"Hamish, you know it wasn't simple-"

"Of course it wasn't simple," Hamish interrupted angrily, clenching his hands into fists and staring at his lap. "But listen to me! All my life, I've never had any proper friends. The closest I've had are people from the Yard who think I'm a genius following in your footsteps and Lucas from school who also only really likes me because you're my father."

Sherlock was silent, Hamish's words striking him painfully and making him wish he had done things differently when raising the boy. Perhaps if he'd tried harder, Hamish could have had a normal life with many friends.

"Then, to have _him_ -" There was no way Hamish was actually going to admit who he had kissed to Sherlock, no matter what. "-come along and instantly like me, not even knowing who my parents are, was just... amazing. And he was so up-front about it. He didn't need convincing, he tried to convince _me_. I just... I'd never had that before and I got caught up in it and I allowed him to kiss me. And I'm _sorry_."

Sniffing as he tried to keep himself from crying, Hamish rubbed at his eyes before pulling his legs up onto his bed and hugging them to himself for comfort. Sherlock could almost see the shame rolling off him in waves and quickly moved closer to put an arm around him.

If John were here, Sherlock was certain he would have known just the right words to say to calm Hamish down and let him know everything was going to be alright. But without John by his side to take the reigns, Sherlock had to think of something himself.

He chose not to use his words, but instead brought his hand to Hamish's face and gently brushed his thumb over the boy's lips. Wiping them clean. Then he lifted Hamish's chin and leaned in, pressing their mouths together and kissing him firmly. Whatever mistakes Hamish might have made earlier that night no longer mattered.

A few minutes later Sherlock and Hamish were sitting with their foreheads pressed together and their arms around each other.

"We both love you, Hamish," Sherlock murmured.

"I know. I love you too and it won't happen again, I promise."

Sherlock said nothing in reply but squeezed Hamish's shoulder gently. He still had more questions of course – _who_ Hamish's new friend was, for example – but decided to leave them for the time being. It would be better if Hamish told them when he was ready.

"I need some sleep." Hamish pulled away slowly, smiling at Sherlock as he took his shirt off and shuffled out of his trousers. "Thanks for... Not getting mad."

"You're mad enough at yourself for the both of us," Sherlock chuckled, reaching out to push some of Hamish's hair off his forehead. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Sherlock."

"Good night."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim Moriarty.

_I had a really nice time. Did you sort things out with your dad? JM_

_Yes, everything's fine. HWH_

_Glad to hear it. I was wondering – would you like to come over again tonight? Alex is still staying with Sebastian. JM_

_Maybe we could pick up where we left off. JM_

_I have a lot of school work to do. HWH_

_You're ditching me. JM_

_No. HWH_

_Need I remind you how clever you are? School work is not a valid excuse. JM_

_How did you get my number? HWH_

_Snooped in Alex's phone. JM_

_I don't mean to be rude, at all, but I really think it would be best if you stopped texting me. HWH_

_Did I scare you? JM_

_Please leave me alone. HWH_

_If I misread the signs, I'm sorry. But I don't see how I could have misinterpreted "Yes, I want". JM_

_Don't ignore me, Hamish. JM_

_If you're afraid because I'm older than you and you don't want others to find out, don't be. It can be our little secret. JM_

_I'm sorry if I led you on but I'm not interested. HWH_

_Why are you doing this to me? I thought you wanted me as much as I want you. JM_

_Hamish, please. JM_

_Just talk to me? JM_

Hamish was lying on his bed, his phone discarded on his desk for the time being while he stared at the ceiling with a frown. He liked James, but he didn't want anything more from the man than friendship. After all, Sherlock and John were a thousand times more important and he _knew_ they wanted what was best for him. He had only just met James. He knew nothing about him.

There was just something about James which had gotten under Hamish's skin and refused to be dislodged. Something that kept the boy thinking about him again and again, trying to work out why he was so intriguing. Something in the back of his mind...

With a groan, Hamish got up and made his way downstairs – leaving his phone behind in case James sent another text so he wouldn't have to try and hide his reaction from his parents. John had returned from work half an hour ago and was sitting in his chair with a cup of tea, reading the newspaper. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen, so Hamish assumed he was in his room.

"Hey," Hamish said, moving over to perch on the arm of John's chair. "Anything interesting?"

"Couple of robberies. A murder. Lestrade will probably call us in about this, soon, though." John set his tea down on the coffee table before pointing out one particular article to Hamish. "A man's been reported missing by his family. He was meant to be off on a business trip so they didn't realise until a week later. The place he works for apparently didn't notice he hadn't turned up because they had so many other people there as well."

"Why do you think Lestrade will call you for that? It sounds boring."

"Because he's been assigned to it. And-" John straightened the bottom of the newspaper to get a better view of the last paragraph. "The neighbours all say they've seen someone around the house when everyone else who lives there is either at work or at school."

Hamish hummed thoughtfully before he shrugged. "Sherlock will figure it out."

"He already has," John replied grumpily, folding the newspaper up again. "Won't tell me a thing, though. Says he'll only tell me _if_ Lestrade does ask for our help."

"You think he will."

"A man has vanished from his house for over a week, is possibly still hanging around just while the family isn't there, and hasn't taken any of his belongings? Of course he will."

Hamish grinned and leaned forward to kiss John quickly, catching the older man off guard. "You're adorable when you think so hard. Do you really not have a clue what's happened?"

"Don't tell me _you've_ worked it out, too?"

"I can't be certain, but there does seem to be a pretty big hint in the article. It's hard to tell whether it's truly important or just added in by the reporter."

John was frowning. "You're not going to tell me the hint either are you? It just doesn't make sense to me. Why didn't he just pack all his things before leaving for the business trip? Then he could be halfway around the world by now without having to keep snooping around his house and risk getting seen again."

"Maybe it's not him?"

"What, the man at the house?"

"Yeah. The neighbours said they saw _someone_ at the house during the day. It's not specified if they think it was him or not."

"So...?"

Hamish laughed and stood up, going into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea as well. "I don't know! I can't work out a whole case just by reading a newspaper article. You'll have to wait for Lestrade to come knocking so Sherlock can reveal it to us all."

As if on cue, Sherlock emerged from his bedroom with goggles on his eyes and a test tube in his hand.

"Has he called yet?"

"Lestrade?"

"Yes. Of course." Entering the kitchen, Sherlock put his test tube down before moving over to kiss Hamish's forehead briefly. "Well?"

"Not yet," John answered from where he was looking through the newspaper again. "But he will."

Getting his tea, Hamish sidled past Sherlock and gave his arse a cheeky squeeze, making Sherlock squeak and nearly drop what he was working on.

"Hamish!" he reprimanded, but Hamish merely grinned as he sipped his tea and continued to the stairs.

"I'll be in my room. I've got a bit more studying I want to do before tomorrow. Don't make Lestrade feel too stupid when he asks you to help him, alright?" Disappearing up to his room, Hamish could hear John's laughter for a good ten minutes as Sherlock complained about ruined data on his experiment.

*

Hamish ignored his phone as he worked for a solid hour, copying out notes and ensuring he knew all of the information inside out. But finally he gave in to his curiosity and picked it up, checking to see whether James had sent him any new texts while he was downstairs.

There were none.

He tried to hide his disappointment by getting back to his work immediately, but he couldn't concentrate. Instead, he found himself repeatedly picking up his phone to scroll through their conversation again and again. Eventually, he decided to add the man's number to his contact list, finding it strange to see 'James Martin' in the list.

Returning to their conversation, he scrolled up and down idly. He had no idea what he was looking for, but something was still catching his attention. Pausing as he neared the end of their texts, he frowned.

_Don't ignore me, Hamish. JM_

It was a normal enough text, really. Except that it wasn't anything like the other texts James had sent. All the others were cautious, hopeful and pleading. This was harsh. Demanding. It reminded Hamish of the times he had been with the man and his personality had changed drastically for only a brief moment.

"J M..." Hamish murmured thoughtfully, tapping his finger against the side of his phone.

A sudden vibration in his hand interrupted his thoughts and he flinched, watching as his phone jumped to the bottom of the conversation to reveal a new text.

_I didn't mean to force you into anything. Maybe it would be best if I just tried to patch things up with Sebastian for Alex's sake. Make us one big happy family again and all of that. JM_

That was definitely a change of tune, but one that Hamish was quite happy to hear.

_Thank you. HWH_

_Don't mention it. You've actually inspired me, you know. I'd like for Sebastian, Alex and I to be as close as we were before. Not as close as you are to_ your _fathers, but not every family can have that can they? JM_

_What do you mean? HWH_

_I think we both know what I'm talking about, Hamish. The reason you turned me down. JM_

_I'm just not interested in you. That's all. HWH_

_Jimmy smells a liar~ JM_

Jimmy?

Hamish almost tripped over his chair as he leapt to his feet and yelled, "Shit!" Staring at his phone and feeling the pieces falling into place in his mind, he shook his head fiercely. "Shit. No way. No."

But the man's age, name, and behaviour all made sense. Wasn't he meant to be dead? Yes. But he wasn't. He was alive and trying to get back at them. And he knew! How had Hamish fallen for that so easily? He should have known. He should have _known!_

Rushing downstairs to the living room, he called out for Sherlock and John even as he realised they were no longer there. A note sat on the kitchen table – Gone to the Yard, be back soon. X – and the flat was much quieter than it had been before.

Hamish was about to send a text to Sherlock when two hands appeared from behind him and clamped down on his wrists. The warmth of a body then pressed up against his back and a breath ghosted over his ear.

"Jim Moriarty," the voice murmured cheerfully. "Hi!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An eyeball in the kettle, Sherlock? Really?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second scene of this chapter contains coercion which strongly hints that there will be non-consensual sex in a later chapter. This is a spoiler, but for anyone who might be triggered, I wanted to let you know that there will be **no** sex scene between Jim and Hamish. ~~He will be rescued first, yay!~~

When John and Sherlock arrived home again, John was rubbing his forehead tiredly. He headed to the kitchen, Sherlock following behind him.

"It's always got to be some crazy love affair, hasn't it?" he sighed, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. Reaching for the kettle, he flinched violently before exclaiming, "Bloody _hell_ , Sherlock!"

"What is it?" Sherlock asked, stepping forward quickly and putting a hand comfortingly on John's waist.

John shrugged him off.

"I told you not to use this kettle for your experiments!" he said angrily, picking up the kettle to peer in before making a face and covering his mouth with one hand, pushing the kettle far back on the bench. "I bought you your own kettle, remember?"

"I know," Sherlock said, eyes wide in confusion. "I haven't used this one. What's in it?"

John rolled his eyes, clearly not believing Sherlock, but stepped back so the man could move forward and take a look for himself.

"An eyeball?" Sherlock asked, shaking the kettle around a bit and making the eye in the bottom jiggle around. "This isn't mine, John, I promise. Maybe Hamish got his hands on it from the morgue. You know Molly and the others have a soft spot for him."

"Hamish should know better than to put eyes in this kettle, too," John sighed. Moving over to the staircase leading up to Hamish's room, he called, "Hamish! Could you come downstairs now, please? I need to talk to you!"

Sherlock was still staring at the eyeball in the kettle, a thoughtful expression on his face as he tried to work out what was going on. The explanation was likely to be a simple thing like Hamish forgetting which kettle to use for tea and which to use for experiments, but the boy never had forgotten in the past.

John had retreated to the sofa, turning on the telly quietly as he waited for Hamish to come down so he could ask about the kettle.

"Piece of shit," John groaned quietly, hitting the remote control against his hand before pointing it at the telly and trying to change the channel. All that was showing at the moment was white noise.

Finally putting the kettle down again, Sherlock walked over to see what was happening with the telly.

"Maybe a cable got dislodged," Sherlock suggested as John continued to have no luck in making the TV start working again.

"All I want after a long day is to be able to sit down and relax in front of some really bad soap opera. Is that too much to ask?" John asked, looking up at Sherlock sadly.

"Would you settle for relaxing with me?" Sherlock asked, grinning as he leaned down and kissing John gently. John moaned and reached up to put a hand in Sherlock's hair, pulling the man down to the sofa and deepening the kiss.

A loud blast of static suddenly interrupted them and they turned to see a woman on the telly, large ripples of white noise still mostly covering the screen's image. As they watched they realised the image was looping, the woman's mouth opening and closing in exactly the same way again and again.

"What is that?" John asked quietly, frowning. "What's she saying?"

It only took a moment for Sherlock to copy the woman's mouth movements and then he said, "O. She's saying 'O'."

The looping image ran a few seconds longer before disappearing to total white noise again and John and Sherlock sat in silence.

"Have you seen Hamish yet?" John asked softly, tearing his eyes away from the screen to look at Sherlock.

Sherlock shook his head slowly and grabbed John's arm when the man quickly stood up.

"I'm sure he just forgot," Sherlock said. "Go easy on him, alright?"

"I will," John said, nodding and then pulling away from Sherlock to go over to the stairs and head up to Hamish's bedroom.

Sherlock followed at a distance, his eyes scanning the rest of the flat for anything that might be out of place. He couldn't find anything else, though, so continued up the stairs to join John in seeing if Hamish was safely in his room, perhaps just listening to his headphones or really engrossed in an experiment of his own.

"Sherlock," John said, his voice dangerously low. "What the hell is this?"

Stepping up beside the man, Sherlock looked over John's shoulder into Hamish's room to find out what the problem was. It was obvious at once.

On the wall directly opposite the doorway was a large letter 'U', written in a thick red paste. Sherlock pushed past John, who was standing frozen in silent anger, and reached out to touch the substance before bringing it to his nose and sniffing it.

"Is that what I think it is?" John asked slowly.

"Blood," Sherlock confirmed, turning back to face him. "We need to call Lestrade."

"What the hell?" John repeated, staring at the wall again and shaking his head slowly. "What's going on, Sherlock? Why is there- why is... what the _hell_?"

"It's a message from Moriarty," Sherlock said softly, his eyes dark. "I O U."

"Mori- what? He's dead!" John exclaimed.

"I knew something was wrong right away. Of course, I would have preferred some other criminal trying to scare us," Sherlock replied, stepping over to John and putting his clean hand on the man's shoulder. "But he's the only one who could know to do this. The eye in the kettle, the woman on the telly and now this. It's the same message he gave to me all those years ago."

Pausing to take a deep breath and calm himself again, John asked, "So how do we stop him?"

* * *

Hamish let out a soft groan as he lifted his head and blinked his eyes slowly, trying to get accustomed to the light in the room. He had been tied down to a chair in a small room with no windows, the only light coming from a lamp placed on the table in front of him. It was pointing directly at his face and thus making it difficult to get a good look at his surroundings.

Testing gently against the rope bonds, Hamish winced as a sharp pain shot through his arm and he quickly looked down to see a loose bandage wrapped around his forearm, soaked in blood.

Closing his eyes with a sigh, Hamish went over what had happened in his head.

He had been about to text his parents when realising the true identity of his friend James, but then the man himself had shown up and taken the phone from him, holding a knife and threatening to do a lot of damage if Hamish didn't cooperate. Then he had been taken back up to his room, where Jim made a deep cut in his arm before using the blood to draw on the wall.

John and Sherlock were going to be so worried.

The sound of a door creaking open captured Hamish's attention and he looked up, trying to squint past the bright light of the lamp to see who was entering the room.

"Oh, you're awake!" came the familiar Irish accent of Jim Moriarty. He had long since stopped pretending to have lost the accent, especially now that Hamish knew who he really was.

"Please let me go," Hamish said softly, trying to keep calm. He wasn't sure how much blood he had lost from his arm, but since the bandage wasn't even on tightly he couldn't be sure the wound wasn't still bleeding. If he was still losing blood, he would have to be very careful or he might faint.

"Are you aware of just how much you look like Sherlock? I'm not surprised that John was attracted to you as well." Jim stepped closer, standing to the side of the light now so Hamish could begin to make him out properly, though his eyes were still dazzled. "But Sherlock? Why would _he_ want you? Is he really that self obsessed?"

"He loves me," Hamish said, looking down at his lap so his eyes didn't have to strain as hard.

"Yes," Jim agreed softly, moving even closer so he could grab Hamish's hair harshly and speak into the boy's ear. "A bit too much. What do you think would happen if people found out about that?"

"Please," Hamish mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut. "What do you want from me?"

Loosening his grip to stroke Hamish's hair now, Jim sighed and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I want Sherlock. He tried to outsmart me the last time, but he wasn't expecting me to pull the same trick. So now I'm back and I'm going to take his most beloved possession away from him forever."

Hamish tensed slightly. "You're going to kill me."

"Yes," Jim confirmed with a quiet chuckle. "And I could have done it without ever letting you see my face, too, but I wanted you to know me. Do you know how satisfying it feels to know that I made you fall for me, if only for a minute?"

"I _hate_ you!" Hamish shouted suddenly, jerking against the ropes and trying to pull away from Jim. "You sick bastard, how can you do something like this? You have a son! How would you feel if someone took him away from you and killed him?"

"Pissed off, perhaps," Jim said, making a face and shrugging. "But then, I haven't been fucking him. I'm positive that taking you away will hurt Sherlock more than the absence of Alex could ever hurt me."

"You're sick," Hamish repeated in a murmur, his head tucked down against his chest. He just wanted to go home. How had he ever been attracted to this man?

"Do you know what the best part is?" Jim asked in an excited whisper, straddling Hamish's lap and putting his hands on the boy's shoulders. His body was now blocking most of the light from the lamp, so Hamish was able to look up at him without squinting. "The best part is that once I'm finished with you, I'm going to kill John as well! That will teach Sherlock not to cheat in our games."

"No," Hamish whimpered, twisting his hands to try and get free of the ropes again. "No, you can't."

"But I can!" Jim replied cheerfully.

"Please," Hamish begged. "Don't hurt them! You- you can't..."

"Are you going to cry?" Jim asked, leaning closer and moving one hand to cup the boy's face gently. "You'll be dead. You won't have to see your dad die."

A tear did escape and Jim brushed it away for Hamish.

"They need each other," Hamish choked out softly. "Sherlock... Sherlock needs John. Please, if you want to get back at him just use me. But don't hurt John." At least, Hamish thought, they would be able to move on from losing him. But Sherlock was a mess without John. They were soul mates.

Not that he could even trust Jim if he did agree. He might just kill Hamish and go after John anyway. But if there was even a slight chance that he could talk Jim out of hurting his parents, he would take it.

Jim sat back and studied Hamish carefully before speaking. "If I leave John alone, I'm going to have to do a lot more than just _kill_ you for the desired effect."

Hamish swallowed and blinked rapidly, trying to stop any more tears from falling. "Like what?" he asked.

Humming thoughtfully and leaning close to the boy again, Jim smiled and rolled his hips forward to press their groins together. "Maybe we could make a nice little video to send to them. How does that sound? I might be convinced to leave John alone if you make it worth my time."

"You want me to have sex with you?" Hamish asked, terrified with the thought of being so vulnerable at the hands of this madman.

"Unless you can think of something which would cause Sherlock more pain?" Jim asked.

Hamish could only shrug helplessly, biting his lower lip anxiously as he avoided Jim's gaze.

"That's what I thought." Jim leaned forward to press a soft kiss against Hamish's lips, lingering there until the boy shyly reciprocated. "You'll cooperate, then?" he murmured.

Looking up into Jim's eyes again as the man smiled kindly at him, Hamish found himself giving a small nod. Sherlock would come for him. Sherlock would find him and set him free, so the least he could do was stall for more time. He just had to last long enough for Sherlock to work out where he was being kept, then all of this would be over.

"Alright," Hamish whispered. "I'll do it."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you guys mind if I stop having individual chapter summaries? Because wow it is a lot harder than I thought to sum up a chapter without giving spoilers. And it feels cheesy. Eh. I don't know. Anyway, enjoy!!

Thoughts of what was to come had plagued Hamish's mind ever since Jim left him alone. He hadn't been told _when_ it would happen and the suspense was literally driving him mad. Could he really go through with it? He supposed, if he just focused on Jim's body and tried to forget who he was he would be able to enjoy it... but he didn't _want_ to.

John and Sherlock would know he was missing by now. The wound on his arm had stopped bleeding – he assumed, at least, because the stain on the bandage was a dark brown – and it had been at least two days. Since the first visit from Jim, he had only had company for brief moments from a man he didn't know who gave him food and took him to the bathroom.

What sort of clues had been left behind for his parents? Were they solving the last piece right now, about to start on their way to find him? Or were they completely stumped and confused about everything that had happened?

Hamish wondered, also, whether they would have gone to the police or to Uncle Mycroft. If they knew it was Moriarty who had taken him, surely they would go to Mycroft for help because he had more control. But what if they didn't know? What if Jim hadn't left _anything_ distinguishing for them? All Hamish knew was that Jim had left a message in blood, which was why he had cut his arm open.

Closing his eyes, Hamish breathed slowly to try and calm himself down. It was no use worrying. Surely having sex with Jim wouldn't be too bad, because the man could be nice when he wanted and Hamish had agreed to cooperate. Hamish could find ways to make himself enjoy it, even if that meant closing his eyes during the act and picturing John or Sherlock in the criminals place.

A small tear slipped out from beneath Hamish's eyelid and he sniffed, turning his head to try and wipe away the tear on his shoulder. He never knew when someone was going to come in and didn't want to appear weak when they did. Crying achieved nothing. Hamish was going to be forced into sex and murdered after, so the sooner he came to terms with it the better.

At least he had been able to get what he wanted for a little while before being torn away from the two most important people in his life. John and Sherlock would survive without him, although they would hurt a lot. But they would have each other and that was what mattered.

It was around ten minutes later when the door opened again and Hamish looked up, eyes widening in surprise as he found himself staring at Alex. It was better than being greeted by Jim and being told that now was the time, but he didn't understand. Watching the boy close the door behind him and step further into the room, Hamish shook his head slightly.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, wondering why Alex knew about him being kept prisoner and if the boy was involved in more of his father's crimes.

"I don't particularly like you," Alex said, eyebrows drawn together slightly as he stared at Hamish. The words weren't comforting and Hamish squirmed in his uncomfortable seat, wishing for the millionth time that he could escape. Was Alex going to torment him? Have some fun of his own?

"Please... just leave me alone."

"I don't like you," Alex repeated, stepping closer. "But that doesn't mean I want bad things to happen to you. You annoy me because you're better in class. I want to rub higher marks in your face and watch you fail a couple of classes, but this..." Hamish could identify the expression on Alex's face now and was surprised to see that it was _distress_. "No one deserves this."

"You don't like what your father does," Hamish murmured softly as he began to understand.

"No, I don't," Alex agreed. "So I'm going to get you out."

Hope leapt within Hamish's chest and he had to clamp down on it. He didn't want to get too excited yet in case Alex didn't really have a plan or the whole thing failed anyway. "How?" he asked. They would need to have a very good plan if they were going to sneak past _Jim Moriarty_ after all.

Alex started smiling and Hamish frowned.

"It won't be as hard as you think," Alex told him. "Jim and Dad will be out tomorrow morning on important business and we'll walk right out the front door."

"Surely he's got more security," Hamish said, not believing it could be that easy. "Aren't there more guards? Trip wires? Alarms? Anything? There must be protection so that no one can get in or else my parents would be able to barge right in and rescue me." He had still been holding onto a faint hope that John and Sherlock would burst in soon, regardless of any protections Jim put in place.

"Your parents would need to know where you were being kept in order to do that. And he's got sensors and things," Alex said with a shrug. "But I'll disable them all. He's been teaching me everything so that I can take over one day. I'm not going to."

Hamish was quickly gaining more respect for this boy.

"Anyway, don't die before tomorrow morning or it's pointless." Alex turned to the door, clearly not wanting to hang around any longer than he had to.

"Is that it?" Hamished asked. "I just wait until tomorrow and then I'll be free?"

"Easy peasy," Alex agreed.

"And you won't find it hard going behind your parent's backs like that?"

"Are you _trying_ to make me changed my mind?" Alex asked sharply, glaring over at him.

"No, I... Sorry." Hamish swallowed and looked down. He knew he should leave it because he was getting his wish of escape, but he couldn't help wondering about Alex. The boy was offering to put himself on the line for him and Jim could be terrifying. Was he the same around his own family?

Alex's feet scuffed the ground as he stepped over to the door.

"What will he do?" Hamish finally asked softly.

Alex's hand was on the doorknob as he hesitated. He didn't look back. "He'll probably pull his knife out. Might burn my arm again."

"You're his son!" Hamish exclaimed, horrified.

"Yeah, well." Alex cleared his throat softly. "He doesn't care about me the way yours care about you."

"Come with me."

"I can't," Alex said stiffly, beginning to turn the knob.

"You can! Please, you can't stay here. I don't want bad things to happen to you either, and especially not on my account!"

Alex had opened the door and was stepping out. Just before he closed the door, he turned back to Hamish and said, "Thanks for the suggestion, but I can handle my parents."

"Think about it," Hamish urged.

The door clicked shut.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy sex!

Sleeping in a chair with your hands tied by your sides, the ropes digging in and cutting off circulation, is never easy. Hamish was in and out of sleep a few times during the night, frustration of not being able to get comfortable nearly driving him out of his mind and tempting him more than a few times to try tipping his chair over so he could at least sleep on his side.

He only knew it was morning when he was brought his breakfast from the man who he now assumed was Sebastian Moran, Jim's partner. It was the only logical explanation after Alex had spoken as though they were the only other three in the building.

Sebastian had never said a word to him in the past, but this morning after putting the food down on the desk and moving to undo Hamish's arms so that he could eat, he did.

"Boss will be coming to see you once you've finished eating," he said, stepping to the side as Hamish cradled his arms against his chest and rubbed them together.

Hamish said nothing in reply, unsure if he was allowed to. If Jim was coming this morning, would he just be telling Hamish when _it_ was happening, or was now the time?

Thinking about it would only make him sick, so he focused instead on reaching forward to get some food in his system. He was thankful that it would at least give him some more energy after such a restless night. Sebastian stayed silent from then on as well, waiting patiently until he could take the empty plate from the room – after tying Hamish's arms again of course.

The door had barely closed after Sebastian when Jim was pushing his way in, a disturbing grin on his face as he moved right over to perch on Hamish's lap and drape his arms over the boy's shoulders.

"Oh darling," he cooed. "You look awful."

"I didn't sleep very well," Hamish replied simply.

Pouting, Jim sighed before leaning in to press a kiss against Hamish's lips. The boy closed his eyes, his chest tightening fearfully as he tried to force himself to kiss back. Alex had said they would be going out in the morning, so why was Jim still here?

"That was a poor effort," Jim commented when he pulled back. "But I'll give you one point for trying. Anyway, 'Mish, I just wanted to let you know that you and I have a date tonight. I thought I should give you _some_ time to prepare yourself mentally. You haven't been worrying too much, have you?"

Hamish stared at Jim, barely able to find words to formulate a response as a sense of relief came over him. The date was tonight. Alex would get him out before then. He would be safe.

"I'm alright," Hamish managed at last.

Jim's eyes bore into him, narrowing just a touch as if trying to see something. Finally, his expression relaxed again and he stood up, his hand pushing Hamish's curls back from his forehead.

"Good boy," he said softly, smiling. "I'll take care of you tonight."

Left alone again finally, Hamish sagged in his chair and closed his eyes. Jim and Sebastian would be leaving any minute now and Alex would get him out.

Ten minutes passed and Hamish tried to think about his school work to keep his mind engaged while he waited.

Two hours, approximately, and Hamish was anxious. A small voice in his head whispered that he'd been taken for a fool, and Alex was just as good an actor as his father.

Another hour and the tightness in his chest refused to go away no matter how slowly he breathed and no matter how many times he told himself it would be fine because Alex was surely just delayed.

When the door finally opened half an hour later, his whole body was tense.

"Sorry," Alex said as he slipped in and shut the door behind him, rushing over to start untying Hamish's bonds. "They didn't leave when I expected them to."

Swallowing, Hamish nodded his head in understanding. "It's okay. It's... fine. Just hurry."

Alex nodded as well and moved to the next arm after untying Hamish's left. Once they were done, they both worked on the ropes around Hamish's legs and finally Hamish could stand up again. His legs were stiff but Alex grabbed him, helping him over to the door and outside.

The building they were in was incredibly plain, yet clearly a residential house from the layout. The room Hamish had been in, before renovated into a prison, would have been one of the bedrooms.

"This way," Alex said, leading Hamish through the corridors quickly. He obviously knew his way around and Hamish wondered if they'd all been living here with him prisoner. This definitely wasn't the house he'd visited before.

The front door finally loomed up ahead and Hamish let himself grin, gripping Alex's shoulder as they walked and giving a gentle squeeze to express his gratitude.

They were ten steps away when a shadow fell across the window set in the door, blocking the daylight, and both boys froze in terror. Alex's head was shaking slightly, confused that his parents would be back so soon, but before either of them could move there was an almighty _crunch_ and the door splintered inwards.

"Hamish!" John exclaimed. Hamish reached out, his eyes lighting up excitedly as John leapt over the broken door and raced towards him with an expression of horror. " _Get away from my son!_ "

"It's okay!" Hamish replied quickly, thinking John was talking about Alex. "He saved me!"

John's hands came down on his shoulders and wrenched him forward just as a searing pain exploded in the small of his back. He stumbled forward with a gasp, almost going right down to the ground but finding himself in Sherlock's arms.

Opening his mouth to speak, Hamish found his eyes welling with tears and the only sound he could make was a pained groan.

"It's alright," Sherlock was saying soothingly, one arm supporting his upper back and the other stroking his face gently. "I've got you. You're safe, Hamish. Everything's going to be alright."

The pain wasn't even that bad anymore, but Hamish was too exhausted to hold himself up. He could feel his body going into shock and let his eyes close, leaning in to Sherlock and breathing in his scent before he slipped unconscious.

* * *

 

A steady beeping roused Hamish from sleep and he blinked his eyes lazily at the white ceiling. After a few moments of simply lying there and letting himself wake further, he looked around and took note that he was in a hospital room. The beeping he could hear was the machine to his left, recording his heart rate.

Something stirred beside him and he glanced down.

"You're awake," John said, picking himself up from where he'd been resting his head and arms on the edge of his son's bed. He reached a hand up to stroke Hamish's hair gently and Hamish smiled. "I'm so sorry it took so long to find you."

Hamish shook his head. "Don't. I'm sure you did everything you could."

Hesitating, John looked down at Hamish's stomach and the boy suddenly became aware of the bandage wrapped around him. Remembering the pain he had felt before, he winced before taking John's hand and squeezing it.

"What happened?"

Pressing a light kiss to Hamish's hand, John began. "Moriarty and his Sniper were behind you. We guessed you didn't know because as soon as the door came down, they snapped into action. Moriarty had a knife and it didn't take a genius to know what he was going to do."

"But they left!" Hamish protested. "Alex said they would be out."

"Then they must have come back," John said with a shrug. "All I know is Moriarty managed to stab you before I could get the knife from him."

"And then what happened?" Hamish asked. "Did Alex get out? Is he okay?"

"He's fine."

"He saved my life."

"I know."

Hamish sighed, looking up at the ceiling again. "At least you got there when you did. We never would have made it out otherwise."

"We would have gotten you out sooner or later, anyway," John reassured him gently. "We weren't going to let him keep you for long. We're just lucky that he didn't do more to torture you while you were there. We thought... _I_ thought... you might already be dead."

Meeting John's gaze again, Hamish gave him a small smile. "You can't get rid of me that easily."

With a humourless laugh, John shook his head and then glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. Satisfied, he leaned over and kissed Hamish softly. In response, the boy opened his mouth into the kiss and lifted his free hand to tangle in John's hair.

Their lips moved together lazily until there came the sound of someone clearing their throat from the doorway. John pushed back from Hamish quickly, his face red as he looked around to see who had caught them in the act.

"It's good to see you so comfortable with each other," Sherlock said with a smirk. "And Hamish, it's good to see you're awake."

"Sherlock," John scolded with a sigh. "You scared me half to death."

Sherlock walked over to join them, still pleased with himself, and leaned past John so that he could kiss Hamish himself.

"Wow." Hamish grinned at Sherlock when the man pulled back. "Hospital life is pretty exciting so far."

"Hm." Sherlock brushed a finger across Hamish's lips. "We can't let things get _too_ exciting just yet. Your body needs rest so that it can heal itself properly."

John stood up, eyebrows raised. "Yeah, be careful. His hearts already speeding up."

Hamish glanced at his heart monitor before chuckling. "It's not my fault I've got the sexiest boyfriends in the world."

"Sexy?" John asked, shooting Sherlock a cheeky glance which didn't go unnoticed. In an instant, Sherlock had pushed up against John and was kissing him passionately as if to prove that he could be _very_ sexy.

When they parted, breathless, Hamish let out a dramatic moan and bit his lip.

"You're so demanding!" Sherlock groaned, pretending to be frustrated as he bent over the boy and pressed their lips together again. He didn't kiss as fiercely this time, but it wasn't nearly as gentle as their previous one either.

"We... really..." John said slowly, staring at his lovers before glancing over at the door nervously. "Should stop."

Not disconnecting the kiss, Sherlock reached a hand back and groped for John's crotch. When he found what he was looking for he gave a gentle squeeze which made John jump and push him away in embarrassment.

"Sherlock! Not here!"

Finally lifting his head again, Sherlock smiled down at Hamish and carded his hand through the boy's similar curls. "When you're all better, I will show you exactly how glad I am that you're alright."

"Yes, we both will, but we really should go," John said. "Hamish, you need to sleep some more. The knife missed all of your vital organs and your spinal chord, but it's still a deep wound and will take time to heal."

"I only just woke up," Hamish protested sadly, clinging to Sherlock's shirt when the man made a move to straighten up.

"He only just woke up, John," Sherlock whined, winking at Hamish.

Trying to bite back a smile, John sighed loudly and folded his arms. "You're both insufferable."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied about the sex, but at least I got your attention!


End file.
